


Reflected Images

by sabrina



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-10-20
Updated: 2004-10-20
Packaged: 2017-10-07 09:46:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/63910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabrina/pseuds/sabrina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Buffy makes some realizations about forgiveness and love. Takes place directly after the end of 'Beneath You'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reflected Images

The room was dark; a sliver of moonlight fell through the window, creating four pools of silver moonlight across the floor: four pools of light: four pools of hope. Buffy leaned back against the wood of the door, her fingers reaching behind her and switching the lock on the handle. She couldn't talk to anyone right now. She couldn't think of what to say. A breeze rustled the curtains lightly and she heard the leaves on the tree outside the room whisper quietly and she could hear his voice again.

'Can we rest now Buffy? Can we rest?'

In the rustle outside her room she could hear the sizzling sound, on the wind she could still smell the acrid smell of flesh burning. The door was solid and cool beneath her skin, as he had been time and time again. She leaned against it, steadying herself, hoping to calm her heart from the wild rhythm it had caught when Spike had walked in the door earlier that evening, the very picture of calm, cool rationality. As if nothing had happened between them before he left. As if nothing had happened between them at all. When she'd thrown insults at him, he'd taken them. Like he had before she'd gone away. Before she'd died.

'…you treat me like a man.'

She could still see him standing at the bottom of the staircase, gazing up at her with that calm unsettling look in his eyes, unsettling by its mere confidence. Not the psuedo-confidence that Spike so often boasted of but something founded on something deeper than she knew. More than she could understand.

Could a vampire have self-worth? Could a vampire have confidence? True confidence? Could a vampire truly love? Angel had, but only with his soul. And when his soul had left he'd turned frightening, into a man she no longer knew and no longer could trust.

And now Spike had a soul. God alone knew how he had come by it and Buffy wasn't certain that she even wanted to know. If Spike knew how to get a soul, couldn't have Angel known that information too? Couldn't Angel have gone to find his, without a curse, without limitations on his happiness? If he'd wanted it?

Questions to which she might never have a definite answer. Perhaps, she'd rather not have a definite answer. It was so much water under the bridge. She had changed… Angel had changed… And Spike had changed.

Sinking to the floor she stared at the light places on the floor. Another breeze came through the window tossing her wisps of hair around her face.

Spike had a soul.

She absently fingered the cross around her neck, running her fingers over the smooth stone, tracing the edges of it with her fingertip. Memories flooded back over her in waves. Two men, so different, and yet both had marked her so deeply.

Angel in the alleyway, giving her the silver cross.

Spike in a warehouse, proclamations of love across his lips.

Angel by the dock, slipping the Claddagh ring on her finger, explaining the meaning behind it.

Spike running up a hundred stairs to reach Dawn, to save her, his only thought on helping Dawn before Glory could start anything.

Angel fighting to save her life in the warehouse as the Judge and Spike and Dru's henchmen came after them.

Spike standing in an alleyway, a smirk on his face. What's happening Saturday night?…I'm going to kill you, love.

Angel's face as his soul was returned…

Spike's face after she had kissed him the very first time.

Angel standing in the school hallway, his arms around Willow, his face in a vampire snarl, ready to kill her best friend.

Spike's bruises from Glory's probing.

Angel's arms around her.

Spike's arms around her.

Angel's face as he taunted her: 'you sure have a lot to learn about men, but I guess you proved that tonight'.

'…I guess you proved that tonight…tonight…tonight…'

'get it hard… service the girl…'

'…I should have known you wouldn't be able to handle it…'

'I can't. Not with you looking… looking… looking…'

A tear slid down her cheek, tickling her face. Buffy stared straight ahead, her mind still in the past. But the words, those words repeated not so very long ago. Spike. William. Who was he now? He had a soul. But he was acting insane. And could she ever forgive what he had done to her?

Had she ever forgiven Angel for what he had done to her?

'…I guess you proved that tonight…'

She felt tired, like she had that night. She'd curled up on her bed and cried her heart out, her fingers wrapped around the cool metal of the claddagh ring. The coolness of the ring a painful reminder of the cool touch of Angel's arms around her. She'd cried until she could cry no more, and yet it hadn't changed anything. A little of her had died that night: part of her belief in herself stabbed with Angel's cool words.

The breeze picked up momentarily and the leaves danced wildly, creating a kaleidoscope of patterns across the moonlit floor. A tear ran down Buffy's other cheek. She wished she could just be that girl… before Angel… before love had seemed so doomed and her destiny of alone-ness so completely unable to be penetrated. If she had known Spike then…? If Spike had been… changed… then?

'…and she shall look on him with forgiveness and everybody will forgive and love…'

Buffy's mind swirled around like the patterns on the floor. Thoughts tumbled over each other in a mad rush to reach some sort of rational conclusion. How had she got to this place? What had brought her to this point? What had brought any of them to this point? She fought for breath as a huge weight seemed to crush down upon her and tears begin to stream from her eyes. Holding her knees to her chest she began to sob. Somewhere once upon a time, she'd known how impossible it was for her and Spike to ever be together. Somewhere once upon a time, she'd been strong enough to do what was right for him and for her. Somewhere, once upon a time, she'd turned Angel away because she was too needy.

Somewhere. Once upon a time. She'd accepted Spike because she was so needy.

'Why does a man do what he musn't? For her… to be hers… to be the kind of man who would nev-…'

And he'd wanted to be with her. He hadn't the strength to tell her 'no, it wasn't right'. Or the courage to make her face what she was most afraid of. Or maybe he was too afraid that she didn't really want him, so he wouldn't turn her away for fear that he would lose her completely. Or maybe he'd taken her actions as face value. As a 'yes' to them. She'd told him no before. She'd told him no a hundred times before she'd finally said yes because he helped her to feel.

He helped her to feel? Tears came afresh, as she felt nearly nauseated by her own actions.

'…why does a man do what he musn't… musn't… musn't…?'

Pictures came back to her again.

Spike's eyes as he'd asked her to marry him that time Willow's magic had gone so completely awry.

Spike's face as he'd come after her. '…it's not so unusual… two people in the work place…'

The utter look of disbelief and hurt as she'd closed the door in his face.

The touch of his hand on her shoulder as she'd sat on the step after hearing her Mother was going into the hospital.

His concern for Dawn.

Their arguments, sometimes so petty, where she didn't trust him, and yet she took her sister to stay with him.

His deep seated concern for her when she'd came back.

His face as she'd told him about being pulled out of heaven.

His disbelief as she'd kissed him.

His question, betraying his bewilderment with her actions: '…do you even like me?'

His voice after being confronted by Riley about being the doctor '…you KNOW what I am!'

'I can be good too. I've changed Buffy.'

'I believe you. I just don't know what you've changed into…into…into.'

A man with a soul.

No. A vampire with a soul.

She sat quietly, tears halted for a moment, thoughts halted for a moment, while the trees whistled gently in the breeze. She pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged them tightly.

'…you sure have a lot to learn about men… but I guess you proved that tonight…'

Angel's voice came back to her, taunting her. Wasn't it true? Angel had been a vampire, evil, horrible, when he'd told her that, but wasn't it true? Her needy-ness was why Angel had had to leave, not once, but twice. She'd echoed those words back to Riley, and yet, she'd been so closed down, so uncommunicative, that he'd left. She'd never had a chance to tell him why… And Spike… she'd spurned. She'd treated him hideously. She'd used him terribly…

'…but you treat me like a man…'

She'd been a better person before she'd died. Spike had been a better… vampire? No… a better man… before she'd died. She'd lost his strength, and she'd been his only source of strength. She'd been his moral code, and then she'd lost her way, and so had he.

Tears sprang to her eyes again as the realization hit hard. No wonder… She'd been his guide map. When she'd treated him as a man, he'd acted accordingly. When she'd treated him…

…Like the robot…

'…make it hard… service the girl…' Mechanical voice. Mechanical motions. Mechanical love.

'Buffy, I'm sorry… not that it matters anymore… anymore…anymore…'

Not that it matters anymore.

She looked up at the moonlight, her eyes glittering with tears, sparkling with reflections of the shadows of the leaves. She reached her hand up, behind her, and grasped the door handle, pulling herself to her feet with force. She stood, her hands grasping the handle tightly.

'…and she shall look on him with forgiveness and everybody will forgive and love… and love… and love…'

'Love is patient…you treat me like a man… love is kind…what's wrong, love?… love does not boast…I didn't, I'm just a guy who can lend a hand if you'll let me… Love is not rude…tell me I'm wrong and I'll walk out that door… love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things… Is it all right then? Can we rest now Buffy? Can we rest?'

She wiped her eyes against her arm and opened the door. The house was quiet, Dawn had already went to bed. She walked down the stairs, holding the stair rail tightly to keep her balance. Her feet traced back over the path she'd ran earlier in the evening. She passed through the cemetery gates, across the gravestones and back to the church.

She didn't expect to find him there. Although she didn't expect to find that him gone either. He was slumped on the stones of the floor. His chest marked with the burns from the cross.

'Spike?'

But he didn't move.

Buffy swallowed and came forward, standing over him. Her eyes traced the form, bathed in partial light from the windows. His chest was smooth and white, except where deep marks had been burned into his skin. His arms well defined in the light, burn marks moving down towards his hands. It was a stranger's body, she realized. Had she ever really looked at him? Had she ever really seen him as anything more than a… a lesser being… something there to meet her needs… a stuffed animal… or a security blanket?

'William,' she whispered suddenly, and knelt down beside him, trying to see for a moment, the man he once had been. The man…

Oh… God… The man he could be again.

'Why does a man do what he musn't? For her… to be hers… to be the kind of man who would nev-…to be a kind of man… a kind of man…'

A man. Not a monster.

And yet he'd wanted it while he still was a monster. He'd sought after it. For her. He'd loved her enough to change… '…until all that's left is you…'

Buffy swallowed hard and reached a hand down tentatively touching his chest, another tear rolled down her cheek and fell against the skin, sizzling slightly as it hit the burn marks.

'weeping buckets of salt…'

And she knew suddenly what he meant. What he had wished for.

'oh we can love, you know… we can love quite well… if not wisely…'

'If not wisely,' Buffy whispered, Drusilla's words floating back through her mind. But even a soul did not equate wise love. She'd loved unwisely before.

'…and she shall look on him with forgiveness and everybody will forgive and love… and love… and love…'

Had she ever been able to forgive herself for loving unwisely? Had she ever been able to turn that love into something real and meaningful? Beyond the grasp of death?

She reached down and picked him up. She'd hated him, she'd lusted after him, she'd trusted him, she'd scorned him, she'd fought him, she'd fucked him: There was one thing left for her to do.

She rose, using her Slayer strength as she carried him out of the church and made her way back towards the school building. Slayer carrying Vampire. It was time for him to stand on his own. It was time for her to stand on his own. Only if they were both standing could they ever stand together.

But first the wounds needed to be cleaned. They needed to heal.

Forgiveness began tonight.


End file.
